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LIBRARY  OF  PRINCETON 


MAY  2  4  2005 


THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2010  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://www.archive.org/details/addressbeforezelOOconr 


MAR  151915 


AN 


ADDRESS 


THE  ZELOSOPHIC  SOCIETY 


THE   INIVKKSITY  OF  PENNSYLVANIA, 


JANUARY    25th,    1842, 


ROBERT    T.   CONRAD 


-—~r.*t*J*m 


PHILADELPHIA: 

PRINTED    FOR   THE    ZELOSOPHIC    SOCI1    .  i 
Bj  J.  Young,  Black  Horse  Alley 

1342. 


University  of  Pennsylvania,      ~) 
January  26//i,  1842.  \ 
Sir, 

We  have  the  honour  to  transmit  to  you  the  thanks  of  the  Zelosophic 
Society,  for  the  Oration  delivered  last  evening,  and  to  request  a  copy 
for  publication. 

Very  respectfully. 

We  remain,  yours,  &c. 

CHA'S  GRAHAM  BREWSTER,"! 
JOHN  P.  BROCK,  gj 

ALBERT  W.  DUY, 
BENNEVILLE  J.  ESSER, 
ANDREW  Y.  LEVERING, 
HORACE  R.  WIRTZ. 
Hon.  Robert  T.  Conrad. 


Philadelphia,  February  17,  1842. 

Gentlemen, — In  compliance  with  your  polite  request,  that  I  should 
furnish  my  address  for  publication,  I  send  you  herewith  the  manuscript. 
With  great  regard, 

I  am  yours,  &c. 

ROBT.  T.  CONRAD. 

Messrs.  Chas.  Graham  Brewster,  John  P.  Brock, 
Albert  W.  Duy,  Benneville  J.  Esser, 
Andrew  Y.  Levering,  Horace  R.  Wirtz, 

Committee. 


ADDRESS 


Gentlemen, 

Of  the  Zelosophic  Society, 

of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania : 

Every  season  of  life  has  its  dreams,  its  waste  of  time 
and  mind  in  unrealities,  and  youth,  perhaps,  more  than 
any :  still  it  may  be  doubted  whether  the  earlier  stages 
of  our  journey  are  not  more  practical  and  laborious  than 
those  of  after  life.  Youth  has  every  motive  to  exertion, 
and  these  appeal  to  minds  and  frames  which  move,  as 
the  spring  moves  near  its  fountain,  with  a  sparkling 
alacrity,  unknown  to  the  broad  river  of  advanced  life. 
They  who  treat  it  as  a  season  spanned  only  by  rainbow 
hopes,  and  dreamy  imaginings,  sacrifice  to  a  fiction,  their 
own  memory  of  its  care  and  labours.  It  is  the  season  of 
practical  exertion,  and  as  such,  I  will  endeavour  to 
consider  its  duties,  with  a  simple  and  frank  fidelity. 

However  much  we  may  have  done  in  our  academic 
hours,  who  reverts  to  them  without  a  pang  for  that  which 
was  left  undone  ?  In  this,  as  in  all  things,  the  greatest 
prodigality  accompanies  the  greatest  wealth.  The  most 
marvellous  instances  of  early  assiduity  are  among  those 
to  whom  fortune  has  been  a  step-dame,  and  who  were 
forced,  like  Prometheus,  to  snatch,  with  a  furtive  hand, 


6 

the  etherial  and  immortal  fire.  "  Sweet  are  the  uses  of 
adversity;"  and  had  science  wooed,  from  the  couch  of 
affluence,  those  glorious  spirits  who,  like  Hercules  in  his 
cradle,  strangled  the  early  influences  of  a  hostile  for- 
tune, it  may  be  doubted  whether  they  would  not  have 
been  found  indolent  and  ease-enamoured.  Even  the 
muse  finds  a  less  ardent  lover  when  she  woos  his  love, 
than  when  in  her  coyness  she  flies,  or  in  her  anger 
repulses  him.  Most  men  regret  the  want  of  literary 
leisure  :  yet  how  comparatively  meagre  and  worthless 
have  been  its  fruits.  The  golden  mass  of  our  literature 
has  been  mined  from  the  dwelling  place  of  truth  and 
taste,  by  those  who  wrought  for  bread.  Leisure  and  ease 
relax  the  mind.  As  a  general  rule,  those  have  most 
leisure  who  are  most  engaged :  the  intellect  that  is 
spurred  into  activity  by  imperative  duties  fills  up,  with 
profit,  the  chasms  of  time  in  its  way ;  while  the  leaden 
and  narcotic  spirit  of  the  man  of  leisure  waits  in  vain  for 
the  moment  of  inspiration  and  action.  Caesar  addressed 
from  his  camp  in  the  Gallic  war  his  treatise  on  arms  to 
Tully;  and  Tully  himself  composed  his  works,  in  the 
hurry  of  a  life  crowded  with  the  most  important  events. 
The  regret  which  follows  early  opportunities  neglected 
is  the  regret  of  a  life,  for  it  is  irreparable.  In  this  country, 
the  contest  of  life  is  too  hot  and  hurried  to  afford  time 
to  repair  the  deficiencies  of  the  past.  The  present  hour 
is  omnipotent,  and  careless  of  the  past  or  future,  demands 
a  homage  too  engrossing  to  permit  us  to  retrace  our 
steps  to  the  groves  of  the  academy.     We  cannot  leave 


the  field  even  to  put  on  our  neglected  armour.  But  were 
it  otherwise,  the  efforts  of  age  could  not  supply  the 
short-comings  of  youth.  The  mind  is  so  framed  that 
youth  is  given  for  acquisition,  manhood  for  action.  The 
youthful  mind  receives  impressions  with  the  rapidity, 
and  retains  them  with  the  fidelity,  of  the  steel  impressed 
by  the  Daguerrotype ;  but  every  succeeding  year  clouds 
the  light  and  dulls  the  steel,  until  at  length,  the  mind 
becomes  almost  the  mirror  of  the  passing  lights  and 
shadows  of  life.  The  memories  latest  and  liveliest  in 
the  mind  are  those  of  boyhood. 

It  is  too  generally  believed  that  a  profound  and  com- 
prehensive education  is  less  necessary  here  than  in 
Europe  ;  but  in  no  country  are  the  objects  of  the  intel- 
lect so  lofty  as  here,  and  in  no  country  should  its  aids  be 
so  ample.  In  Europe,  most  men  are  educated  for  the 
rank  in  which  they  are  born ;  they  aim  at  a  defined 
point  in  a  defined  sphere,  and  if  they  attain  it,  live  and 
die  there.  Here  the  strata  of  society  are  pervious ;  and 
lie  who  aspires  must  be  fitted  for  all,  and  rise  through 
all.  And  he  can  do  it.  The  deep  spring  of  genius  may 
have  mountains  cast  upon  it : — chance  will,  in  some  in- 
stances, direct  it  to  the  surface,  and,  even  upon  the 
mountain  top,  it  will  bubble  up,  sparkling  in  the  first 
rays  of  the  sun  when  the  world  below  is  yet  darkened ; 
or  the  slow7  process  of  industry  may  perforate  the  super- 
incumbent mass,  until  the  spring  of  genius  bursts,  as  the 
water  follows  the  earth-auger,  in  glittering  power  and 
beauty  to  the  day.     In  other  lands,  genius  may  go  down 


8 

to  the  church-yard  unhonoured :  here  there  is  no  spot 
shaded  from  the  sun;  and  if  the  seed  and  soil  be  genial, 
the  mind  will  burst,  under  the  summer  of  equal  freedom, 
into  greenness. 

In  a  republic,  at  least  in  ours,  every  man  is  a  public 
man ;  and  this  is  not  merely  the  theory  of  our  society — 
it  is  the  fact.  Almost  every  superior  intellect  is  con- 
nected directly  or  indirectly  with  the  business  of  the 
republic.  Education  should  therefore  be  most  compre- 
hensive and  complete ;  and  we  must  regret  that  too  often 
the  aspirant  instead  of  passing  years  at  the  Palestrae,  is 
hurried,  unexercised  and  unmatured,  into  the  game  of 
life. 

The  true  object  of  education  is  lofty  as  the  destinies 
of  man  are  lofty,  for  it  controls  those  destinies.  It  is 
not  to  make  him  a  successful  juggler  on  the  stage  of  life, 
to  enable  him  to  win  wealth,  pleasure  or  power ;  it  is 
to  gain  the  true  prize  of  existence — a  wise  and  just  self- 
approbation.  This  object  is  not  sufficiently  cherished. 
In  loftiness  of  sentiment,  the  ancients,  though  destitute 
of  the  aid  of  Revelation,  were  our  superiors.  Ethics 
occupied  the  first  place  in  their  studies.  Xenophon 
applauds  Socrates  for  turning  all  his  inquiries  and  con- 
versation upon  "what  was  pious,  what  impious;  what 
honourable,  what  base;  what  just,  what  unjust;  what 
wisdom,  what  folly." 

But  with  youth,  an  admiration  of  moral  grandeur  is 
natural.  A  young  man  destitute  of  that  generosity  of 
sentiment  would  be  an  anomaly  in  nature — a  dawn  with- 


out  light — a  spring  without  verdure.  Scarcely,  however, 
has  he  left  the  precincts  of  the  college,  before  this 
sentiment  is  checked  and  chilled  by  the  world-wise 
cautions  of  grave  and  affectionate  seniors.  The  throb- 
bing impulses  of  honour,  patriotism  and  virtue  are 
often  rebuked  as  unwise  and  unprofitable,  and  the 
enthusiast  is  instructed  that  these  feelings  though  well 
enough  in  those  who  can  afford  to  cherish  them,  are 
to  be  entertained,  by  those  who  must  elbow  through 
the  thronged  avenues  of  fortune  and  ambition,  only 
in  a  constructive  and  convenient  sense.  There  are  few 
men  without  a  remembrance  of  such  counsels,  shed  like  a 
mildew  over  the  healthful  spring-tide  of  the  soul.  They 
are  neither  wise  nor  just.  A  selfish  decrepitude,  it  is 
said,  sometimes  seeks  companionship  with  the  youthful, 
in  the  belief  that,  mingling  their  breaths,  they  may 
exchange  their  physical  conditions.  And  thus  far  the 
superstition  is  true ;  though  such  communion  imparts 
no  health  to  age  and  disease,  it  dims  the  eye,  pales  the 
cheek,  and  saps  the  life  of  youth  and  health.  In  response 
to  the  counsels  which  rebuke  what  is  termed  a  romantic 
enthusiasm,  I  would  say  : — Never  fear  that  you  can  be 
too  virtuous ;  but  continue  to  clasp  to  your  heart  the  first, 
best  gift  of  God — a  generous  admiration  of  high  thoughts 
and  noble  deeds.  The  leprosy  of  low  and  sordid  thoughts 
and  feelings  will  come  soon  enough  to  encrust  your  heart 
with  that  selfishness  which  is  death  to  virtue.  Retain, 
then,  the  freshness  of  your  morning  as  long  as  you  may, 
happy  if  you  can  bear,  even  to  the  grave,  that  delicate  and 


10 

ennobling  sense  of  the  pure  and  lofty  which,  in  the 
worst  vicissitudes,  makes  life  a  glory  and  earth  a  heaven. 
One  of  the  favourite  themes  of  misanthropy  is  the  ste- 
rility of  gratitude  and  the  falsehood  of  friendship.  To 
say  that  vice  is  without  gratitude  and  fidelity,  is  no  more 
than  to  say  that  midnight  is  dark :  but  the  wisest  and 
best  men,  those  who  have  sought  true  friendships, 
and  deserved  them,  have  not  found  them  insubstantial 
or  transient.  They  who  speak  of  gratitude  and  friend- 
ship as  shadows,  are  mostly  incapable  of  virtue  them- 
selves— men  born  blind  who  deny  that  the  sun  shines. 
The  best  economy  of  life  is  an  economy  of  its  friend- 
ships and  good  feelings.  For  my  own  part,  I  am  con- 
vinced that  there  is  no  error  more  lamentable  than  that 
which  teaches  a  doubt  that  good  is,  even  here,  repaid 
with  good,  kindness  with  kindness,  friendship  with 
friendship,  and  love  with  love,  to  the  uttermost. 

The  virtue  least  taught  and  most  needed  is  courage. 
It  is  the  greatest,  for  it  fosters  and  fortifies  all  the  others. 
Indeed  nothing  worth  winning  is  won  without  it,  for 

Great  things  through  greatest  hazards  are  achieved, 
And  then  they  shine. 

By  courage  I  do  not  mean  mere  daring — brutes  and 
cowards  may,  at  times,  boast  that — but  the  fortitude 
which  is  devoted  to  the  right,  and  dares  all  and  bears  all, 
in  its  support.  Nor  is  it  to  be  confounded  with  a 
querulous  acerbity.  Men  there  be,  and  in  high  places, 
who  boast  courage  for  quarrelling  without  danger,  as 


11 


hares  who  skulk  or  fly  all  day,  quarrel  feebly  among 
themselves  by  moonshine.     The  wars  of  such  heroes  are 
like  the  bickering  of  northern  lights,  in  which  the  super- 
stitious   descry  insubstantial    armies    in    conflict — the 
courage  of  shadows      True  courage  is  wise  and  well- 
tempered.     The  mind  is  its  kingdom,  and  its  reward  is  a 
consciousness  over  which  fortune  has  no  power.     It  is 
without  temptation,  for  it  knows  no  triumph  that  is  not 
truth's;    without   terror,   for  the    united   world    cannot 
wrench  from  its  bosom  the  pride  of  worth  and  the  delight 
of  virtue.     With  it,  the  mind  is  a  well-governed  vessel, 
guided  upon  its  appointed  voyage  ;  without  it,  a  wreck, 
under  a  mutiny  of  passion  of  terror,  driven  into  new  seas 
by  every  blast,  to  sink  at  lasl    from  its  own  decay  and 
feebleness.     It  is  that   condition  of  the  mind  which  is 
impregnable  to  temptation,  fear,  or  ungoverned  hope- 
that  manliness,  that  fidelity  to  virtue,  which  has  no  word 
in  our  language,  but  which  you  will  recognize  as  the 
virtus  of  the  Romans,  which  forms  a  just  decision  of 
character,  a  hatred  of  meanness  though  in  high  places, 
a  contempt  of  danger,  and  a  fidelity  to  truth  even  amid 
the  crash  of  empires.     And  by  this,  or  by  nothing,  must 
you  be  upheld.     With  it,  the  just  man  aspires  to  the 
rank  of  gods:  without  it,  virtue  is  an  easy  prostitution, 
and  vice  a  feeble  loathsomeness. 

In  matters  of  opinion— and  opinion  is  the  Baal  of  our 
generation— danger  is  most  in  apprehension.  Moral 
courage  is  safety.  Those  who  dare  the  danger  attendant 
upon  right  seldom  tail  to  find  it 


12 


A  dwarf  dress'd  up  in  giant's  clothes, 
That  shows  far  off  still  greater  than  it  is. 

Brutus  is  represented  as  declaring  in  his  death  that 
virtue  is  not  a  real  good.     He  who,  after  the  sacrifice  of 
Cresar,   retired  to  Lanuvium  to  dream  away  the  days 
which   should   have   saved   the   republic,   who   erected 
shadowy  theories  in  the  place  of  plain  duties,  and  wedded 
virtue  for  her  dower  of  honour  only,  might,  even  when 
dying  in  her  betrayed  cause,  complain  of  her  want  of 
reality.  Ages  have  extolled  his  courage,  though  his  course 
betrayed  an  imbecile  indecision ;  while  Cicero,  whose  life 
manifested  that  spirit  which  subdues  natural  infirmity 
and  dares  a  dreaded  danger,  who  begged  Brutus  to  meet 
the  battle  for  a  world  in  Rome  itself,  and  led  the  way 
even  while  he  declared  his  life  forfeit  by  it,  is  quoted  by 
every  tyro  as  a  coward.     It  is  a  specimen  of  the  falsehood 
of  history  and  the  worthlessness  of  opinion.     But  to  re- 
turn from  this  digression,  even  were  virtue,  as  Brutus 
declared  it,  a  false  divinity,  still  would  courage  be  the 
omnipotence  of  humanity.      Without  it,   the   virtuous 
may  live,  as  the  dove  lives,  harmless ;  but  it  can  only 
be  said,  they  lived.     With  it,  even  the  bad  rise  to  power 
and  honour. 

It  may  be  doubted  whether  our  countrymen  are  not  de- 
ficient in  this  virtus.  Fear  is  to  us,  especially  in  the 
region  of  opinion, 

Tristius  haud  illis  monstrum  ;  nee  saevior  ulla 
Pestis,  et  ira  Deum,  Stygiis  sese  extulit  undis. 


13 

It  might  he  thought  from  our  green  and  shrinking  diffi- 
dence, that  we  were  still  in  our  pupilage.  Never  lived  a 
people  whose  policy  was  so  gorgeously  crowned,  never 
lived  a  people  so  united,  so  prosperous,  so  calmly  and 
mildly  free.  The  most  limpid  stream  will  bear  in  its 
course  a  portion  of  the  earth  over  which  it  flows ;  and 
the  current  of  our  politics  may  be  tinged  with  the  imper- 
fections incident  to  humanity.  But  annals  so  pure, 
peaceful  and  happy,  the  world  has  never  known.  Yet 
are  we  distrustful  of  them  and  of  ourselves.  So  far  has 
this  want  of  fortitude  been  encouraged,  that  our  nervous- 
ness has  become  a  jellied  and  shivering  susceptibility. 
We  fear  that  our  constitutions  are  not  perfect — and  they 
are  altered ;  we  fear  that  our  pecuniary  institutions  are 
not  safe— and  they  are  crushed;  we  fear  the  policy  of  our 
government — and  change  it ;  we  fear  the  change — and 
change  again.  And  thus  we  go  on,  until  the  public 
mind  becomes  a  kaleidescope  in  which  every  thing  is 
varying,  and  each  object  as  it  is  attained  melts  into 
something  else.  "They"  said  Randolph,  "who  love 
change,  who  wish  to  feed  the  cauldron  and  make  it  bub- 
ble may  vote  for  future  changes.  Give  me  a  constitution 
that  will  last  for  half  a  century — that  is  all  I  wish  forr" 

Nor  is  this  fear  inconsistent  with  rashness.  No  man 
is  so  imprudent  as  the  coward.  Courage  does  not  risk 
so  much  as  fear.  The  reign  of  the  facile  and  feeble  first 
Charles  exhibits  more  instances  of  rashness  than  the 
career  of  Alexander  or  Napoleon.  Impelled  by  distrust 
or  panic,  we  too  often  rush  into  unconsidered  opinion  or 


14 

action.  We  brush  away  the  experience  of  ages,  as  it 
were  a  cobweb ;  tear  down  institutions  hoary  with  the 
moss  of  time,  yet  green  with  the  ivy  of  wisdom  ;  and  sub- 
stitute sudden  innovations,  glittering  with  the  glaring 
colours  of  false  taste,  or  grotesque  with  the  novelty  of 
ungoverned  fancy.  To  this  we  may  ascribe  the  hasty 
innovations  which  deform  our  legal  system.  We  are 
now  taught  that,  in  nature,  worlds  are  formed  from 
nebulae  and  moulded  by  the  patient  hand  of  eternity 
into  habitable  and  happy  orbs  :  thus  was  our  legal  system 
formed  from  tne  shadows  of  early  error ;  thus,  percolated 
through  centuries,  and  purified  and  organized  by  expe- 
rience, did  it  take  the  shape  of  nature  and  truth,  until 
wisdom  itself  wrondered  at  its  almost  mysterious  accord- 
ance with  our  necessities,  and  at  the  calamities  which 
ensued  from  the  derangement  even  of  its  minutest  parts. 
To  the  distrust  of  which  I  have  spoken,  must  we  attri- 
bute the  innovations  with  which  puffed-up  ignorance 
has  covered  that  system,  until  its  pyebald  inconsisten- 
cies mock  and  dismay  the  student  at  every  step.  To  this 
too,  we  may  ascribe  the  success  of  that  empty  empiri- 
cism which  defies  science  and  probability,  and  adopts 
its  thousand  blundering  and  fatal  modes  of  antedating 
the  maturity  of  our  obligation  to  the  universal  creditor — 
death;  to  this  too,  the  wild  philosophies  wThich  give  the 
mind  of  a  nervous  child,  when  asleep,  supernatural  powTer 
to  voyage  through  regions  heretofore  traversed  by  the 
wings  of  angels  only ;  and  to  this  the  more  dangerous 
fantasies  which  fabricate  new  faiths,  the  profane  absur- 


15 

dity  of  whose  creeds  would  have  shocked  the  dullest 
ignorance  that  preceded  the  light  of  revelation.*  This 
very  boldness  arises  from  the  want  of  that  spirit  which, 
while  it  inquires  into  all  things,  holds  on  to  that  which 
is  good.  Inconsiderate  and  sudden  movements  of  the 
mass  are  seldom  safe  or  wise.  The  herds  of  buffalos  in 
our  far  west,  are  said  to  be  swayed  by  uncertain  impulses 
into  a  movement  which  becomes  a  panic,  and  the  vast 
throng  presses  furiously  forward  over  the  precipice  or  into 
the  flood,  to  certain  destruction ;  and  of  this  character  are 
many  of  the  unconsidered  impulses  of  a  mercurial  peo- 
ple. The  distrust  which  relies  neither  on  the  old  or  new, 
but  lives  always  in  a  troubled  and  changing  atmosphere, 
arises  not  from  one  erroneous  opinion,  but  from  the 
change  of  opinions.     It  assumes  that 

Of  old  tilings  all  are  over-old, 

Of  good  things  none  are  good  enough  ; 

We'll  show  that  we  can  help  to  frame 
A  world  of  other  stuff. 

*  As  by  wicked  incredulity  many  men  are  hurt,  (so  saith  Wierus,)  of 
charms,  spells,  &c.  we  find  in  our  experience  many,  by  the  same  means, 
are  relieved.  An  empirick  oftentimes,  or  a  silly  chirurgeon,  doth  more 
strange  cures  than  a  rational  physician.  Nymannus  gives  a  reason — 
because  the  patient  puts  his  confidence  in  him  ;  which  Avicenna  prefers 
before  art,  precepts  and  all  remedies  whatsoever,  "fis  opinion  alone 
(saith  Cardan)  that  makes  or  marrs  physicians:  and  he  doth  the  best 
cures,  according  to  Hippocrates,  in  whommost  trust.  So  diversely  doth 
this  phantasie  of  ours  affect,  turn  and  wind,  so  imperiously  command 
our  bodies,  which  as  another  Proteus  or  Cameleon,  can  take  all  shapes, 
and  is  of  such  force,  (as  Ficinus  adds,)  that  it  can  work  upon  others 
as  well  as  ourselves. 

Burton's  Melancholy. 


16 

Irresolute  minds  vary  with  every  change  of  confident 
counsellors ;  they  mingle  the  opinions  successively  pre- 
sented, as  the  gamester  shakes  his  dice ;  and  at  every 
throw  a  different  result  is  produced.  The  man  of  high 
moral  fortitude,  on  the  contrary,  has  that  spirit  of  ada- 
mant, upon  which  the  patient  and  temper-tried  chisel  of 
truth  alone  can  make  an  impression;  but  once  made, 
that  impression  is  fixed  as  some  of  the  memorials  graven 
on  the  rocks  of  our  land,  which  mock  the  curiosity  of  our 
antiquaries :  centuries,  with  all  their  storms  have  passed 
over  them  without  dimming  a  line  or  changing  a  cha- 
racter. 

We  have,  as  a  people,  courage  enough,  and  to  spare. 
That  heroism  cannot  be  questioned  which  made  field 
and  flood  witnesses  of  a  superiority  in  daring  and  endu- 
ring that  wrested  triumph  from  those  who  considered 
her  their  slave.  Nor  does  our  national  pulse  beat  with 
a  feebler  spirit  now.  The  slightest  theme  of  wrong 
ruffles  the  country  into  defiance ;  and  should  the  con- 
test come,  as  come  it  may,  it  would  be  met  with  a 
shout  of  welcome  that  would  ring  from  the  Atlantic  to 
the  cottage-dotted  prairies  of  the  farthest  West.  And  is 
it  not  strange  that  a  people  thus  inspired  should  shrink 
before  influences  so  inferior;  and  that  the  fear  of  the 
press,  the  fear  of  cliques  and  factions,  the  fear  of  censure, 
however  diminutive  the  penny  trumpet  through  which 
it  is  sounded,  should  cow  the  better  part  of  man  in  those 
whom  real  danger  would  make  heroes?  The  fierce 
spirit  of  Macbeth  could  dare 


17 

The  rugged  Russian  bear, 
The  arm'd  rhinoceros,  and  the  hyrcan  tiger ; 

but  became  the  "baby  of  a  girl,"  when  confronted  with  an 
empty  chair  which  his  imagination  had  filled  with  spectral 
horrors.  But  we  cannot  be  blind  to  the  truth,  that  mere 
military  courage,  is  not  the  highest  courage,  for  those 
who  have  boasted  most  of  it  have  been,  in  loftier  spheres, 
irresolute  and  feeble.  The  lives  of  many  of  whom  bio- 
graphy has  been  proudest  prove,  that 

"  Fool  is  the  stuff  of  which  heaven  makes  a  hero." 

The  absence  of  virtus,  prompts  in  social  life  submission 
to  all  that  is  considered  potential.  The  follies  of  fashion 
are  the  fruits  of  a  tyranny  which  is  feared  while  it  is 
despised.  Some  there  are  who  nutter  in  its  light,  and 
consider  "  motley  the  only  wear,"  to  gratify  the  little 
throbbings  of  a  childish  vanity ;  but  the  mass  bow  to  its 
unreasonable  decrees  because  they  fear  it.  In  dress  and 
matters  of  a  like  character,  the  concession  is  too  trifling 
to  be  considered ;  but  there  are  other  usurpations  which 
cannot  escape  our  contempt :  as,  for  instance,  the  ho- 
mage paid  to  wealth,  even  when  won  by  acts  which 
should  link  a  shame  to  every  dollar ; — or  to  rank,  though 
achieved  by  meannesses  which  render  it  a  degradation ; 
— or,  still  worse,  to  the  pride  of  family,  a  pride  which 
cannot  wander  back  to  a  grand  sire  without  stumbling 
over  a  tailor's  goose,  a  shoemaker's  stall,  or  a  blacksmith's 
anvil.     I  do  not  say  that  these  pretensions,  false  any- 


18 

where,  but  absurd  here,  are  respected  ;  but  I  do  say  that 
they  are  feared  and  cultivated,  and  that  the  unthinking 
mass  of  what  is  termed  the  "  higher  circle" — and  in  this 
country  no  class  thinks  so  little — regard  these  claims  to 
homage  with  a  deference  not  yielded  abroad  to  the  oldest 
blood  that  stagnates  in  the  herald's  book. 

In  professional  life,  it  assumes  the  shape  of  a  domina- 
tion of  ranks,  circles  and  cliques,  who,  attaining  power 
by  the  force  of  association,  seek  to  establish  a  professional 
peerage,  and  to  frown  down  the  young  commoner,  how- 
ever gifted,  who  has  not  their  seal  to  his   aspirations. 
How  many  have,  under  the  fear  thus  inspired,  sunk  into 
despondency — how   many   burning    and   divine   spirits 
have  been  extinguished, — who  can  tell  ?    But  the  sceptre 
is  broken.     The  spirit  of  the  age  has  burst  through  the 
barrier  which  surrounded  the  professions ;  and  now,  he 
who   merits   success  may  attain  it.     Still  the  ruins  of 
that  barrier  are  to  be  surmounted ;  and  the  young  ad- 
venturer, from  false  modesty,  (a  frailty  too  often  impru- 
dently fostered,  and  the   real  ingredients  of  which  are 
cowardice  and  vanity)  often  sinks  at  the  outset,  before  a 
rivalry  which  a  brief  season  of  exertion  would  teach  him 
to  despise.    Let  not  the  youthful  candidate  for  professional 
eminence  mistake  the  shuddering  which  repels  him  from 
the  field  which  he  has  chosen.     It  is  oftener  vanity  than 
modesty — a  vanity  which   fears   a  failure  to  reach  its 
own  over-elevated  standard; — or  cowardice — a  cowardice 
which  shrinks  from  that  of  which  it  believes  itself  to  be 
capable; — or   a  sluggishness,  which,  though   it   would 


19 


graciously  accept  the  laurel,  were  it  twined  by  other 
hands  around  its  drowsy  brows,  dares  not  strike  or 
struggle  for  it.  These  weaknesses  generally  find  a  self- 
excuse.  Were  it  not  so,  the  clipped  eagles  whom  we  too 
often  find  in  the  humbler  circles  of  the  professions,  would 
long  since  have  displaced  the  confident  and  oracular 
owls  that  heavily  flap  and  flutter  above  them. 

Nor  are  the  influences  of  this  weakness  less  felt  in  the 
circles  of  trade  and   business.    He  who  by  slow  gains, 
studiously  hoarded,  seeks  to  win  the  sufficiency  that  will 
feed   him   in   age  and   bury  him  in  death,  may  do   it 
without  courage.     Avarice  has   often   effected  this,  and 
avarice  is  nothing  but   the  cowardice  of  cupidity.     But 
he  who   would   achieve  a  more  liberal   position,    needs 
courage  and  fortitude.     Mere  enterprise  is  not  courage. 
True  courage  weighs  its  designs  before  it   adopts  them, 
and  then  adheres  to  them  through  every  reverse ;  and  it 
seldom  fails.     He  who  trembles  at   every  rumour,  and 
changes  with  every  change,  seldom  wins  affluence.    The 
absence  of  this  commercial  virtue,  the  presence  of  panic, 
distrust  and   change,  have   shed  universal  dismay  and 
calamity  upon  our  city.     The  words  of  Seneca  describ- 
ing a  city  consumed,  do  not  exaggerate  the  fate  to  which 
a  want  of  firmness  and  fidelity  to  self,  has  led  us  :  "  una 
dies    interest    inter   maximam    civitatem— et   nullam." 
Perhaps  there  is  no   successful   merchant   living,  who 
cannot  refer  to  a  crisis  in  his  affairs,  when  a  want  of 
fortitude  and  a  betrayal  of  his  embarrassments,   would 
not  have  induced  ruin  and  beo-oary. 


oo 


20 

In  public  life  the  necessity  of  that  fortitude  which 
constitutes  the  dignity  of  man,  is  still  more  conspicuous. 
Without  it,  no  public  man  can  be  honest.  The  true 
rule  is, 

"  To  thine  own  self  be  true, 
Then  wilt  thou  not  be  false  to  any  man." 

The  dread  of  the  censure  of  the  wise  and  good  is  a 
virtue ;  but  the  fear  of  miscreated  popular  opinion  is,  in 
all  stations,  inconsistent  with  honesty.  And  it  is,  even 
with  the  politician,  the  party  astrologer  who  calculates 
his  destiny,  as  it  is  ruled  by  the  revolutions,  not  of  the 
heavenly,  but  earthy  masses,  equally  inconsistent  with 
success.  Politics  is  a  moderated  state  of  war,  and 
courage  is  there  as  necessary  as  in  a  campaign.  The 
want  of  it  prompts  the  conciliating,  instead  of  the  crush- 
ing, of  enemies — a  policy  like  that  of  Rome  in  her  decline, 
who  weakened  herself  and  strengthened  her  foes,  by 
bribes  and  concessions  which  assured  her  fall.  It 
induces  a  betrayal  of  friends  in  their  time  of  weakness; 
forgetful  that  the  example  must  be  visited  upon  the 
exemplar,  for  no  one  is  true  to  the  man  who  is  false  to 
others.  It  leads  to  expedients,  which  stimulate  for  one 
moment,  and  betray  to  greater  weakness  the  next;  and  it 
embraces  every  diseased  error  that  may  woo  it,  false  to 
the  truth  which  it  had  wedded,  and  which  alone  will  be 
true  to  it.  The  mind  has  no  more  divine  attribute  than 
a  love  of  true  glory ;  it  has  no  more  feeble  and  con- 
temptible meanness  than  the  pruriency  of  mere  praise. 
Next  to  the  desire  of  a  divine   immortality,  is  the  glory 


21 

perpetuated  by  the  memory  of  good  deeds.  Such  were 
the  sentiments  that  led  Cicero,  perhaps  the  most  perfect 
character  of  olden  record,  to  entreat  his  friend  Lucceius 
to  write  his  life,  avowing  and  glorying  in  his  hope  of 
immortality.  But  between  the  ambition  which  seeks, 
even  in  its  setting,  and  after  it,  to  leave  a  glow  upon  the 
world  which  it  has  warmed  and  lighted,  and  the  vanity 
that  claims  immediate  flattery,  there  is  all  the  difference 
that  exists  between  the  glow-worm  that  lights  its  little 
blade  of  grass,  and  the  sun  that  floods  the  universe  with 
radiance.  The  mere  love  of  praise,  deserved  or  not, 
from  the  wise  or  the  worthless,  is  a  disease  which  infects 
all  the  mind.  To  gain  it,  the  readiest  paths  are  pursued, 
and  the  readiest  paths  are  the  basest.  He  who  is  content 
to  live  upon  huzzas,  may  find  his  food  upon  every 
common.  Excellence,  wins  its  way  slowly,  painfully,  and 
by  self  denial ;  vanity  needs  little  more  than  a  con- 
formity to  the  prejudices  and  vices  of  the  mob  and  the 
moment.  The  courage  of  true  glory,  not  seeking  the 
echoes  of  the  clay,  despises  its  censures :  vanity,  to 
secure  its  applause  or  avert  its  condemnation,  will  incur 
self  scorn  and  the  scorn  of  the  worthy.  And  yet  it  is 
moderate  in  its  demands.  It  does  not  seek  permanent 
excitement ;  the  cup  of  praise  which  intoxicates  for  the 
moment,  and  passes  off  in  fume  and  nausea  is  welcomed : 
it  does  not  ask  the  praise  of  the  good  ;  a  shout  is  to  it  a 
shout,  come  whence  it  may:  it  does  not  require  the 
applause  of  many;  for  its  world,  like  its  ambition,  is 
contracted.     These  mendicants  of  praise,  who  live  upon 


22 

small  favours  from    small  men,   are    unworthy  to  be 

considered  aspirants.     True  ambition 

"  Would  rather  wander  thro'  the  world,  a  beggar, 
Than  live  on  sordid  scraps  at  proud  men's  doors." 

One  of  the  worst  results  of  the  prevalent  passion  for 
immediate  praise,  is  the  annihilation  of  all  destinctive 
applause.  Ambition,  though  lit  up  by  the  loftiest 
inspirations,  must  now  be  content  to  feed  upon  the 
garbage  that  is  gorged  by  the  meanest  puff-seeker.  The 
trashiest  droppings  of  the  press,  are  praised  in  terms 
which  spoken  of  Milton  to  Milton  would  have  raised  a 
blush  upon  his  brow — "  sicklied  o'er"  as  it  was,  with  the 
pale  shadow  of  a  mighty  and  majestic  genius.  The 
wretched  retailer  of  empty  phrases,  mouthed  before  a 
gaping  and  shouting  mob  is  praised  in  the  stereotype 
sentences  which  record  the  triumphs  of  men  whose  lips, 
like  those  of  the  prophet,  are  touched  with  hallowed 
fire.  And  what  is  the  worth  of  such  praise  ?  What  man 
of  real  merit  will  not  disdainfully  leave  it  to  the  rout, 
who  follow  the  press  and  the  public,  as  certain  fish  follow 
vessels  to  live  upon  their  tributes  of  offal?  Yet  has  it 
one  advantage  :  the  praise  given  to  any  who  asks  it  is  too 
utterly  prostituted  to  tempt  genius  from  its  forthright  of 
honor.  He  who  seeks  glory  seeks  not  such  glory.  Less 
common,  it  might  win  him  from  the  true  object  of  ambition 
— self-approval ;  but  thus  degraded,  it  has  no  charm  for 
him  whose  goal  is  eternity,  and  whose  prize  a  glory  to 
which  the  radiance  of  earthly  fame  is  a  dimness  and  a 
shadow. 


23 

To  the  same  cause  may  be  ascribed  much  of  our  false 
taste.  Time  was,  when  he  who  communicated  the  most 
truth  in  the  fewest  words,  was  considered  wise ;  but  now 
the  aim  seems  to  be  to  say  the  least  in  the  longest  time. 
Such  efforts  remind  us  of  those  dim  gatherings  in  space, 
described  by  astronomers  as  a  diffused  nebulosity. — 
Thoughts  now  are  made  for  words,  not  words  for  thoughts. 
Orators  determine  the  merit  of  their  efforts,  as  the 
surveyor  measures  a  tract  of  land,  by  the  line ;  and  value 
the  acquisition  by  the  number  of  acres  covered.  Phocion 
studied  not  so  much  what  he  should  say,  as  what  he 
should  leave  unsaid ;  had  lie  lived  in  these  times,  when 
nothing  is  left  unsaid,  he  would  have  encountered  a 
difficulty,  which  in  his  age,  was  unknown. 

The  science  of  government  is  the  loftiest  science,  for 
it  protects  and  advances  all  others.  The  duty  of  politics 
in  this  country  is  two  fold,  to  represent,  and  to  inform 
the  people.  The  former  may  be  effected  by  every  mind 
not  idiotic,  as  every  rill,  not  wholly  denied,  may  reflect 
the  clouds  that  pass  above  it.  The  latter  demands  the 
moral  courage  which  distinguishes  the  statesman  from 
the  mere  politician.  The  public  man  who  has  honesty 
and  courage  will  shrink  from  the  advocacy  of  no  sound 
measure  or  opinion,  because  it  may  be  unpopular.  Such 
a  spirit  can  know  no  reverse.  The  meretricious  smile  of 
the  moment,  has,  it  is  true,  often  been  turned  from  honesty; 
it  has  been  its  eclipse,  not  its  extinction;  it  burned 
brighter  from  the  contrast.  But  that  spirit,  if  true,  cares 
not  to  shine.     Its  light  is  inward,  its  hopes  upward,  its 


24 

reward  immortal.  The  honest  politician,  I  repeat,  can 
know  no  reverse,  for  truth  never  changes ;  he  may  sigh 
for  his  country — never  for  himself. 

The  courtier  of  the  mass  is  the  slave  of  the  mass.  His 
fears  prompt  an  homage  to  those  who  have  the  greatest, 
though  perhaps  the  basest  and  worst,  means  of  control- 
ling the  event  of  the  moment.  Flattery,  in  all  its  pro- 
tean shapes  and  debasements,  is  resorted  to;  and  principles 
are  worn  and  changed  like  a  garment,  with  every  change 
of  the  political  atmosphere.  And  yet  "  corruption  wins 
not  more  than  honesty."  Political  vice  even  in  its  mo- 
ment of  triumph,  finds  its  rewards  crumble,  like  the 
gold  paid  in  fabled  compacts  with  the  evil-one,  into  with- 
ered leaves  or  scattered  ashes.  Its  strength  is  a  weak- 
ness, and  its  triumph  a  dishonor.  The  force  of  associa- 
tion is  a  favourite  engine  with  the  politician.  The  consti- 
tution is  bond  enough  for  the  true  patriot;  but  those  who 
delight  in  stirring  up  the  small  eddies  of  political  life — 
eddies  in  which  the  corruption  which  has  been  swept 
down  by  the  current  is  stayed  and  revolves  in  dull  cir- 
cles, bloating  and  decomposing,  until  having,  for  its 
time,  infected  the  air,  it  sinks  and  is  borne  away — those 
who  linger  around  these  pools,  regard  them  with  a  super- 
stition beyond  that  which  was,  of  old,  paid  to  fairy  stream 
or  haunted  well.  The  praise  of  these  ward  senates  is  to 
the  hour-slave,  who  seeks  to  be  reflected  in  such  a  mir- 
ror, sufficient  glory ;  their  denunciation  is  political  death. 
But  everything  which  has  power  has  for  him  a  fear.  The 
fear  of  office,  of  the  press,   of  the  brawler  who  raises 


25 

a  huzza  at  a  meeting,  or  the  driveller  who  drinks  his 
way  into  the  heart  of  the  tap-room — all  are  terrible : 
and  thus,  amid  the  basest  wishes  and  fears,  does  his  soul 
vibrate.  Not  such  were  the  Statesmen,  who  in  1624, 
1682  and  1776,  "ascertained  the  sacred  rights  of  man." 
Those  three  periods  may  be  considered  the  eras  in  which 
human  nature  rose  to  its  loftiest  elevation.  Each  was  a 
mount  Ararat,  upon  which  rested,  for  the  time,  the  ark  of 
liberty,  when  all  around  rolled  the  turbid  and  turgid 
waves  of  despotism.  Not  such  were  the  spirits  of  those 
glorious  revolutions ;  and  not  such,  let  us  hope,  are  the 
statesmen  of  our  own  time.  And  even  of  those  who  haunt 
the  low  paths  of  political  life,  many  have  capacity  for 
that  which  is  better  and  loftier,  and  lament  the  necessity, 
(as  if  the  wide  world  had  a  necessity  which  should 
prompt  to  dishonor,)  that  enforces  their  debasement. 
Better  were  it,  that  those  who,  misled  by  a  glimmering 
of  false  ambition,  toil  in  such  scenes,  should  seek  the 
truer  glory  of  cherishing  an  independent  spirit  by  an 
independent  fireside.  The  greatest  of  the  ancients  pre- 
ferred the  first  station  in  a  frontier  village  to  the  second 
at  Rome;  a  loftier  and  purer  philosophy  would  teach, 
that  the  first  place  in  the  affections  of  a  virtuous  house- 
hold is  a  more  shining  position  than  any  which  the 
meanness  of  perverted  political  life  can  confer.  For 
what,  at  last,  are  the  rewards  of  political  life  ?  A  few — 
let  us  believe  the  worthy — clamber  up,  over  every  crushed 
enjoyment,  into  a  barren  greatness,  to  encounter  envy 
and  hatred  (which  Cyprian  calls  the  serrcB  animce,  the 


26 

saws  of  the  soul,)  to  be  the  subject  of  calumny,  ingrati- 
tude and  wrong ;  and  after  a  period  spent  upon  the  rack 
of  office,  they  retire,  with  health,  intellect  and  fortune  was- 
ted, to  a  home  which  politics  too  often  renders  desolate. 
But  to  the  mass  of  aspirants,  its  crown  of  thorns  is  not 
even  surmounted  by  the  idle  feather  that  tells  its  unhap- 
py triumph.  In  this  country,  no  man  is  sibi  nati ;  every 
good  citizen  is  bound  to  participate  in  the  duties  which 
guard  the  common  weal;  but  no  wise  man  will  mingle 
farther  in  the  strife  than  patriotism  demands.  Perhaps 
no  man  ever  acted  in  public  life  without  realizing  the 
justice  of  the  remark  of  Demosthenes,  who  said  that, 
if  to  be  a  judge  or  be  condemned,  were  put  to  his  choice, 
he  would  be  condemned. 

It  would  be  profitable  to  trace  the  presence  and  results 
of  the  want  of  spirit  and  independence  upon  our  general 
modes  of  thought ;  especially  in  relation  to  literature,  and 
the  capacity  of  the  race  for  improvement.  In  literature, 
it  must  be  owned  that  we  have  not  achieved  what  might 
have  been  expected  from  us.  We  have  thrown  off  a 
nominal  dependence  upon  Europe ;  but  the  chains  which 
are  heaviest  and  most  benumbing — those  which  wrap  the 
mind — are  still  upon  us.  Our  native  land,  our  position, 
history  and  destinies,  grand  and  peculiar  as  they  are, 
should  have,  but  have  not,  a  literature  of  their  own.  In 
habits  of  mind,  taste  and  sentiment,  we  are  still  a  province, 
and  lack  the  spirit  even  to  will  our  independence.  Our 
authors  are  forced  to  write  for  English  taste  and  English 
approbation,  to  secure  American  applause.    Until  we  can 


27 

acquire  the  spirit  which  thinks  and  acts  for  and  from 
itself,  we  cannot  expect  to  win  or  deserve  great  excellence 
in  anything.  It  is  not  adversity  and  opposition  that 
have  checked  the  developement  of  American  genius. 
To  true  intellect,  where  there  is  a  will  there  is  a  way. 
There  may  be  some  minds  like  subterranean  caves, 
where  the  sleep  of  night  has  never  been  broken,  which, 
if  lighted,  would  throw  back  the  splendour  reflected 
from  millions  of  virgin  gems  breaking,  for  the  first  time, 
into  radiance.  But  there  are  few  such  cases.  Genius 
and  adversity,  like  Caesar  and  danger,  are  "lion  cubs 
littered  in  one  day;"  but  genius  "the  elder  and  more 
terrible."  I  have  seen  farmers  lash  the  bark  of  young 
trees  with  a  thong  of  withes  to  promote  their  growth ; 
and  genius,  thus  scourged  by  the  iron  hand  of  adversity, 
rises  into  loftier  power.  Affluence,  prosperity  and  praise 
have  crushed  thousands,  where  opposition  has  retarded 
one.  Difficulty  and  hope  are  the  pillars  of  light  to 
ambition,  to  guide  it  through  the  desert,  to  its  promised 
land.  Adversity,  then,  is  not  so  much  our  foe ;  the  only 
influence  which  we  need  fear,  is  the  lack  of  that  spirit 
which,  instead  of  being  satisfied  with  an  imitation  which 
is  the  more  despicable  the  more  it  is  triumphant,  dares 
to  disown  all  masters  but  truth  and  nature ;  and  leaves 
the  wings  of  the  mind  free  as  the  eagle,  not  taught,  like 
falcon,  to  quarry  by  rule,  and  obey  the  signal  which, 
should  it  soar  beyond  its  bounds, 

"  Will  lure  the  tassel — gentle  back  again," 


28 

One  of  the  inspired  and  inspiring  lessons  taught 
in  the  literature  of  the  ancients,  is  the  innate  and  divine 
aspiring  for  the  better,  the  better  when  in  ignorance,  the 
better  when  enlightened,  the  better  when  refined  and 
purified,  and  still,  and  still,  the  better.  Religious  freedom 
is  the  foster  mother  of  free  intellect;  while  religious 
bigotry  and  fear  may  be  seen,  in  all  ages,  treading  out 
the  rising  fires  of  the  mind.  Under  the  influence  of 
the  former  spirit,  we  see  Socrates  teaching  a  doctrine  of 
purity,  gentleness  and  piety — a  doctrine  that  made  the 
heart  the  seat  of  virtue,  and  Diety  its  source,  supporter 
and  reward.  After  ages  realized  the  general  harmony  of 
his  doctrines  with  that  system  taught  by  the  source  of  all 
moral  light.  But  it  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  while  the 
sperm  of  falsehood,  the  millions  of  errors  begot  by  bad 
heads  upon  bad  hearts,  die  and  are  forgotten,  there  is 
something  essential  and  divine  in  truth  which  preserves 
it.  Though  Socrates  perished,  there  was  no  hemlcck 
could  destroy  the  truths  he  taught.  He  found  in  Xen- 
ophon  and  Plato  disciples  worthy  of  him ;  and  in  study- 
ing another  of  his  disciples,  Cicero,  we  pause  to  ask,  was 
not  this  man  a  Christian  ?  Indeed,  an  eminent  author 
and  divine  has  said  of  him,  that  he  was  a  Christian 
before  the  coming  of  Christ ;  and  certainly,  there  was  an 
elevation  and  purity  in  his  doctrines  and  life,  which 
proved  the  native  divinity  of  the  human  intellect,  even 
in  the  "disastrous  twilight"  which  preceded  the  advent 
of  Christianity.  Having  alluded  to  that  sacred  era,  let 
me  add  that  to  it  and  the  faith  which  then  shed  a  moral 


29 

day  upon  the  earth,  must  we  look  for  the  source  of  the 
only  true  virtus,  the  courage  that  sits,  a  monarch,  upon 
the  heart,  with  none  to  make  afraid.  That  era  brought 
and  taught  equal  dignity,  equal  rights,  equal  hopes  and 
equal  rewards,  to  virtue  in  all  stations.  And  virtue  is  the 
only  freedom.  The  voluntary  slave  in  a  republic,  whe- 
ther bound  by  his  vices  or  his  subserviency,  is  more  a 
slave  than  the  wretch  who  hates  the  chains  in  which, 
sleeping  or  waking,  he  pines  away  his  life.  How  noble 
the  sentiment  of  an  old  English  poet. 

"Let  them  fear  bondage  who  are  slaves  to  fear: 
The  only  freedom  is  an  honest  heart." 

Every  duty  of  life,  whether  in  the  warring  world  or  at 
the  pain-tended  bed-side,  duty  to  parents,  children,  friends, 
butmostof  all  to  The  Parent — demands  fortitude.  Happily, 
the  time  has  passed  when  open  persecution  against  reli- 
gion was  to  be  breasted;  but  the  undernowing  current 
of  opposition  and  prejudice  exists;  and  he  who  enters  into 
active  life  finds,  at  every  step,  the  value  of  that  fortitude 
which  will  maintain,  amid  neglect,  association,  tempta- 
tion, sophistry,  and  more  than  all,  ridicule  and  satire, 
the  religious  principles  which,  in  the  calmer  and  purer 
moments  of  study,  he  adopted.  Yet,  if  groping  without 
the  aid  of  revelation,  the  main  truths  of  religion  were 
discovered  by  the  glimmering  light  of  nature,  that  intel- 
lect must  be  feeble  indeed,  which,  uniting  classic  to  mod- 
ern study,  can  find  place  for  the  coward  doubting  which 
would  defraud  us  of  the  only  hope  which  life  can  boast 
worth  cherishing — death  and  its  reversion  of  immortality. 


30 

Even  the  earliest  writers  abound  in  sublime  appeals  to 
those  eternal  truths  which  the  outer  darkness  of  their  faith 
could  not  wholly  exclude.  Thus  the  chorus  in  GEdipus, 
lamenting  the  decay  of  virtue  and  religion,  recognizes  a 
heaven-born  code  of  justice.  I  will  attempt  a  para- 
phrase of  the  passage,  giving,  I  trust  with  some  fidelity, 
the  train  of  thought  in  the  original. 

The  beamy  Code  !  Oh,  be  it  mine 

To  tread  the  path  the  just  have  trod  ; 
And  prove  that  stainless  law  divine, 

Its  birth-place,  Heaven — its  father,  God. 
Sprung  not  from  man,  to  know  decay, 
And  pass,  as  he  must  pass,  away ; 
Nor  by  oblivion  rock'd  to  slumber  cold  : 
'Tis  instinct  with  a  God,  and  never  waxeth  old. 

Insolent  pride,  our  country's  blight, 

With  gilded  ills  o'er-pamper'd  long  ! 
It  dashes  o'er  the  cliffy  height, 

To  die  the  tortur'd  waves  among. 
But  for  that  spirit  firm  and  clear, 
To  God  and  to  our  country  dear, 
Ne'er  may  it  faint !     To  it,  to  me,  be  given, 
To  know  no  hope,  no  pride,  no  patron,  but  in  Heaven. 

Who  walk  unaw'd  in  word  and  deed, 

And  truth  and  faith  a  scoffing  make, 
Who  scorn  thy  sky-encircling  creed, — 

Their  triumph  evil  doom  o'ertake  ! 
If  they  who  boast  dishonest  gain, 
And  holy  thoughts  and  things  profane, 
Should  triumph, — where's  the  virtue-shielded  heart 
From  which  will  fall,  repuls'd,  wild  passion's  shatter'd  dart? 

Never  again  the  choral  voice 

On  wronf  o'er  thrown  would  pour  the  strain; 
Never  again  thy  shrines  rejoice, 

Thy  hapless  sons  ne'er  smile  again, 


31 

Did  not  th'  eternal  system  prove, 

Thy  justice,  purity  and  love  ; 

And  leave  the  doom'd,  in  guilty  ruin  hurl'd, 

The  scorner  now  the  scorn' d — the  bye-word  of  a  world  ! 

It  is  the  policy  of  those  who  dread  the  improvement 
of  man,  those  who  would  have  the  world  ever  as  it  is,  to 
doubt  the  capacity  of  the  race  for  progessive  improvement. 
In  this  country,  to  doubt  it  is  a  faint-hearted  treason  to 
the  destinies  of  our  people.  Has  not  the  history  of  the 
race  been  the  history  of  progression?  The  ancient 
powers  in  mechanics  are  now  so  familiar  that  we  forget 
the  centuries  which  produced  their  discovery  and  perfec- 
tion. The  very  origin  of  much  of  the  truth  now  possessed 
is  unknown  :  but  how  much  do  we  owe  to  those  who  strug- 
led  in  that  misty  and  unrecorded  past — the  intellects 
which  started  the  advance  of  the  mind,  an  advance  which 
time  has  only  accellerated,  which  opposition  has  only 
checked  to  accumulate  its  power  for  renewed  and  irresis- 
tible progression,  and  which,  under  heaven,  will  go  on— 
o-o  on,  until  earth  is  made,  if  not  a  heaven  itself,  at  least 
the  vestibule  of  heaven !  And  let  those  who  mock  at  these 
hopes,  remember  that  they  mock  the  religion  which  has 
promised  a  millenium.  What  man  will  say  that  he  has 
reached  a  point  beyond  which  he  cannot  improve  and 
elevate  his  nature  ?  And  if  no  man  has  seen  or  known 
a  barrier  to  human  improvement,  why  should  he  libel 
the  scheme  of  the  universe  by  conjecturing  one?  What 
we  are,  we  know ;  but  what  we  may  be,  no  man  (unless 
he  has  been  and  done  his  best,  and  who  has?)  can  pre- 


32 

sume  to  say.  The  native  instinct  of  the  mind,  undegrad- 
ed  by  sensual  passions,  is  to  soar,  not  grovel ;  and  where 
pure  intellect  is,  there  is  virtue.  No  man  is  at  liberty 
to  ascribe  the  debasement  of  his  nature  to  necessity.  He 
is  his  own  master,  and  controls  his  own  fate.  It  is  the 
merest  folly  to  imagine  that  fate  sends  men  into  the 
world  hood-winked,  to  stumble  over  predestined  ills  and 
vices. 

"  The  weak,  low  spirit,  fortune  makes  her  slave, 
But  she's  a  drudge  when  hector'd  by  the  brave  ; 
If  fate  weave  common  thread,  he'll  change  the  doom, 
And  with  new  purple  spread  a  nobler  loom." 

And  the  real  triumphs  of  such  intellects  are  not  the  mere 
embellishments  of  life ;  but  the  improvement  of  the 
moral  and  physical  condition  of  the  race.  Already,  has 
the  intellect  effected  that  which  renders  civilized  man, 
in  the  eyes  of  those  who  still  linger  about  the  post  from 
which  civilization  started,  a  God — controlling  the  elements, 
over-coming  nature,  and  looking  down  upon  conquered 
impossibilities.  In  reviewing  the  parturient  centuries 
that  have  borne  these  truths,  we  cannot  but  be  struck 
with  the  fact,  that  the  divinity  of  truth  is  proven  by  the 
immortality  of  its  triumphs.  Through  all  time,  amid 
all  the  revolutions  that  have  shaken  the  earth,  truth  has 
lived  on.  We  glory,  too,  in  the  regular  progression 
of  the  intellectual  nature  of  man.  What  has  been,  in  all 
walks  of  the  mind,  is  inferior  to  what  is.  Even  now,  the 
soul  of  the  age  is  swaying  the  world, 

"  Like  a  strong  spirit  charm'd  into  a  tree, 
That  leaps  and  sways  the  wood  without  a  wind." 


33 

The  amount  of  acquisition  is  greater;  and  the  intellect 
is  swelled  into  loftier  dimensions  by  the  truths  upon 
which  it  is  fed,  Nor  do  I  doubt,  that  hereditary  im- 
provement is  thus  induced ;  and  that  one  of  the  great 
objects  of  life  is  the  elevation  of  the  race,  by  a  rising 
succession  of  examples  of  moral  and  mental  excellence. 
But  the  most  kindling  conciousness  which  the  student 
can  cherish  is,  as  I  have  said,  that  truth  is  indestructible ; 
that  he  who  has  unveiled  it  may  pass  away,  but  the  truth 
will  never.  We  read  that  vegetable  seeds  buried  by 
convulsions  of  nature  under  mountains,  and  remaining 
thus  for  centuries,  will  if  uncovered — as  was  the 
case  in  the  resurrection  of  Pompei — germinate  with 
ready  vigor  into  verdure  and  beauty ;  and  truth  thus, 
though  covered  with  mountains,  will,  in  its  own  good 
time,  spring  forth  again,  bright  with  its  unconquerable 
immortality.  For  ages  cannot  tire  out  the  foot  of 
truth;  error,  calumny  and  persecution  cannot  quench 
her  spirit;  she  can  sleep,  as  she  has  slept,  through 
the  midnight  of  centuries,  and  arise  as  from  a  refreshing 
slumber,  to  go  upon  her  way.  She  has,  as  an  archangel, 
a  hierarchy  higher  than  time,  or  chance,  or  change.  The 
memorials  of  the  intellect  in  the  cause  of  truth,  are 
deposited  in  the  archives  of  heaven,  an  imperishable 
inheritance  for  those  who  win  them.  Wealth  and  power 
and  rank  and  rule  are  lost  at  the  grave ;  but  truth  goes 
with  us  to  that  country,  not  "undiscovered,"  beyond  the 
tomb,  to  be  there  our  glory  and  our  exceeding  great 
reward. 


34 

The  spirit  of  improvement  is,  even  now,  heaving  the 
world  with  its  stragglings,  though  we,  in  the  strife  of  life, 
see  it  not.  The  combatants  at  Cannae,  in  the  din  of  the 
battle  storm,  amid  clashing  shields,  braying  trumpets, 
shouts  and  groans  and  horror,  knew  not  that,  at  that  very 
moment,  the  hills  around  them  were  rocking  and  waving 
to  and  fro  with  the  heaving  of  an  earthquake.  Thus  has 
the  conflict  of  life  blinded  us  to  the  vast  organic  commo- 
tions prevailing  around  us.  Nor  can  the  spirit  which  is 
straggling  into  life  be  smothered.  It  cannot  be  stifled,  as 
the  Corybantes  drowned  the  cries  of  the  infant  Jove,  with 
the  clash  and  din  of  the  warfare  of  society.  Against 
every  obstacle,  it  has  advanced,  and  will  advance,  until 
the  dignity  and  destiny  of  man  are  vindicated. 


FINIS. 


3B3nzr  2H 

05-12-05  32180     MS 


LB2325.L77 

Obituary  addresses  delivered  on  the 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary-Speer  Library 


*       1    1012  00085  2162 


